


Tomorrow You Belong to Gotham

by narcissablaxk



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Gotham (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mayor and Chief of Staff, Nygmobblepot, nygmobblepot week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-06 23:37:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14068059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narcissablaxk/pseuds/narcissablaxk
Summary: On the night of Oswald's victory party, Ed plans his own party for the new mayor. For Nygmobblepot Week, day 6: Mayor and Chief of Staff.





	Tomorrow You Belong to Gotham

Parties were so boring, Oswald leaned more heavily against the bar, clutching his flute of champagne close to his chest. Even parties in his honor were getting to be more trouble than they were worth. The schmoozing, the small talk, the forced charade of it all – it would be nice to have a party where he could just have fun. 

His victory party was supposed to be just that, but there was to be no fun at any party for a newly-elected mayor. Edward had warned him of that, in his absently chastising way, as he straightened Oswald’s tie earlier. It was just about appearances, nothing more. 

He tilted the champagne flute back and swallowed the contents with a grimace. He was never a fan of the bubbly stuff; that was more Ed’s speed. His eyes quickly scanned the crowd, searching for his Chief of Staff. It wasn’t like Ed to disappear during a social event; there was too much people-watching to be done. 

With an aggrieved groan, Oswald pushed himself away from the bar and set to taking a lap around the outside of the room, his eyes searching for Ed. Typically, his absence would not be bothersome, but after Butch’s attempt on his life, perhaps his paranoia was sensible. 

It didn’t take long for him to discern that Ed was not in the ballroom at all. Oswald’s paranoia quickly shifted to fear, and he pushed his way out of the room and into the antebellum chamber, glancing left and right, trying to think like Ed. Where would he go? 

A nagging voice at the back of his head whispered, “Where would someone take him?” 

He refused to entertain that voice yet. There was no reason to jump to that conclusion. 

The hallway around the outside of the ballroom was full of little rooms he could search, he reasoned. Surely Ed was in one of those. 

After the first six proved empty, Oswald felt his fear mount into panic. What if Butch had really gotten Ed, and Oswald had been too determined not to be frightened to see it? What if Ed was already dead? 

He nudged open the door to the antebellum chamber that would lead him back to the ballroom, where he could grab Zsasz and go on a real hunt, when he ran face first into a familiar tie. 

“Oh, Oswald, there you are,” Ed’s voice was maddeningly calm, his smile bright. 

Oswald took a step back, all the better to take in the completely oblivious vision that was his Chief of Staff. “Edward,” he breathed. “Where have you been? I was so worried.” 

“Worried?” Ed tilted his head like a puppy. “I was just finalizing your schedule for tomorrow.” He held up a manila folder as proof. “You’re mayor now, which means you don’t get days off,” he parroted playfully, tapping Oswald’s nose with the tip of his finger. 

“I – I thought – Butch –”

“Oh Butch left,” Ed waved off the fear with a smile. “Would you follow me? I can run through your day, so you’re prepared.” 

Oswald blinked. “I – there’s a party –”

Ed slipped his hand into the crook of Oswald’s elbow and pulled him gently along. “I know where the party is,” he said leadingly. Oswald was given no other option but to follow and stay silent, pondering on this shift. Something was different, but what that something was eluded him. He glanced up at Edward again, determined to find a clue in the man’s face. But Ed just placidly smiled back down at him. 

Maddening. 

The office Ed had been occupying was tucked away in the back corner of the hallway Oswald hadn’t checked, and a quick glance up and down the hallway told him it was the most secluded of the lot. 

“Relax,” Ed admonished him lightly.

“I am relaxed,” Oswald replied stiffly. 

“I can feel your tension, Oswald,” Ed said with a laugh. Oswald didn’t answer him; of course he was tense. Ed pushed the door open and offered the first entrance to Oswald. 

A bottle of wine sat uncorked on the desk, with two glasses beside it. Ed let the door fall closed behind them both and went to the desk to pour it. Oswald glanced around the room cautiously. 

“I thought we were talking about my schedule,” he said tentatively. 

Ed shrugged. “I lied,” he said simply. 

“Edward!” 

The man grinned and poured a healthy amount of red wine into the glass and offered it to Oswald. “I know how you feel about parties, Oz. So I thought we could have our own private party.” 

He took the glass, careful to control the smile that threatened to take over his face at the idea of a “private party.” Ed had no such control, and was smiling unabashedly. He poured his own glass of wine and held it up in a toast. 

“To the mayor of Gotham,” he said, his voice quiet, like it was a secret. 

“And his chief of staff,” Oswald added, clinking their glasses together. 

Ed sipped the wine, giving Oswald a wink over the edge of the glass.

“That reminds me,” Ed said, apropos of nothing. He set the glass down on the desk gently and reached into the desk drawers. “I brought you something.” 

It wasn’t just one thing, but several somethings. Oswald watched, with his mouth agape, as Ed pulled a plate of food out of the drawer, a chrome cover obscuring its contents, a box of the little chocolate truffles that Oswald liked, and a wooden box of what Oswald immediately recognized as cigars. 

“Ed…” 

“It felt right,” he said as an explanation, pulling the cover off the obscured plate. “It took me several tries, but I think I managed to get your mother’s goulash right,” he glanced up at Oswald, who was staring at the desk, mouth working like he wanted to say something but just couldn’t. “I figured you should have something of her today.” 

Before he could even process what he was doing, Oswald threw his arms around Ed’s waist. Immediately, Ed embraced him back. “Thank you, Ed,” Oswald said, trying his best not to sound choked up. “I – I don’t know how to thank you.” 

“Oswald, this was me thanking you,” Ed protested with a soft laugh. “You don’t have to thank me.” 

There it was again, the urge to tell Ed he loved him. Oswald swallowed it back with a grimace. They were at a good place; he couldn’t ruin it with declarations of love where one clearly wasn’t wanted. Instead, he pulled away from Ed and surveyed the desk. 

“Oswald,” Ed’s voice was tentative, softer than he ever remembered it being. “Thank you for –” he paused, long enough that Oswald turned to look back at him. 

“I thought thanks weren’t necessary,” Oswald chuckled. But Ed looked so serious that his chuckle died on the edge of his lips. 

“I – I just don’t – I don’t really have a lot of experience with –” he stumbled again, enough this time that he reached for the wine glass to steady himself, tipping the contents into his mouth liberally until the glass was empty. 

“Ed,” Oswald exclaimed, astonished. 

At the sound of his name, Ed set the glass back on the desk, hard enough that it wobbled, and reached for Oswald, catching him around the neck and the waist. Still, his pull was still gentle, and Oswald was rewarded with realizing exactly what was happening before it happened. 

Their first kiss was tentative, a silent ask for permission. Oswald let it happen, careful not to push should Ed get even more nervous. Oswald could feel the trembling in the hand near his neck. He let Ed pull away and push his glasses up his nose, and tried to control his giddy smile. 

“I still don’t know what you’re thanking me for,” he whispered, and was rewarded with a trademark Ed eye roll. 

“Shut up,” he growled, using his thumb to tilt Oswald’s head up to get a better seal on his lips. Content that Ed was comfortable, Oswald finally allowed himself to melt into his embrace, his brain rapidly trying to calculate the likelihood of knocking something breakable over if he pushed Ed into the desk behind him. 

But it seemed Ed had the same idea and more resolve, because he reached down to Oswald’s bad leg and gently lifted him, setting him on the edge of the desk. For a moment, he broke away from him, long enough to survey Oswald with a look that could only be described as hungry, and reached behind him to gently move the plate of goulash onto the chair beside them, cleanly knocking everything else onto the floor. 

“Ed!” 

“The goulash is the only thing I’m particularly fond of,” he explained, reaching for his glasses and placing them beside the plate. “I still want you to try it later.” 

A teasing smile rose to Oswald’s lips. “I can try it now,” he said, acting like he was going to scoot off the desk. But Ed’s hand found his neck again, not squeezing, just resting there, and stopped him. 

“You’re not going anywhere, Mr. Mayor,” he said sternly, pulling Oswald forward for another swift kiss. “Tomorrow, you belong to Gotham. Tonight, you belong to me.”


End file.
